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yesimwriting · 3 years

Text

Crossing lines

General Kirigan/the darkling x reader

Summary: This was requested by my friend @vvsdiamond28 who also writes and has a really good kirigan x reader story up right now! The request was basically for a fic in which the reader is out wandering at night and runs into kirigan while he’s in the banya and then they get to talking and some other stuff before he admits to only trusting the reader and giving her his real name. This gets kinda steamy bc of the request and bc the story called for it lol but it’s not full smut bc i decided that it would be better to do that as a part 2 so that i could add some jealousy tension haha

a/n i think im back?? Ive been working on requests a lot and ive really enjoyed writing regularly again. A small side note, after rewatching revenge of the sith im kinda in the mood to try writing an anakin fic 😭 pls he was my OG fictional crush,, so either send help or a request for him or something, Anyways,, back to this fic--ahh i had fun writing it but i still feel awkward writing steamier stuff so be nice!!

Those that wander in the night, lost in uneasy thought--there’s probably a lot that can be said about them. But I can’t think of anything to be said about me. Nothing good comes from walking around a place full of powerful and tense people in the middle of the night. It wouldn’t take much effort to interpret my actions as suspicious, and yet I continue forward. I’m an idiot--just because I can’t sleep doesn’t mean I have to wander around campgrounds. My presence is barely tolerated here, I shouldn’t try backstroking in waters I can barely tread.

But still, I walk, eyes more fixated on the open night sky than anything else. The moon is as full as an overflowing glass, the stars twinkling as if desperate to compete with a light it will never be able to duplicate. I sigh, pressing my lips together. Maybe the stars and I have more in common than I thought. Normally, that would be a good thing.

Letting out a weary breath, I continue forward, away from the relative safety of the main tents. I’m still on the grounds, I’m approaching the border where the tents of higher ranking officials are. That should make me more nervous, but if anything it almost eases me slightly.

General Kirigan is not the type to be friendly, and yet our interactions have always been laced with a touch of intimacy I can’t quite explain. We’ve been alone together more and more frequently, and I think that’s how I like him best. It’s strange, but when we’re alone some of his sharpness dulls, leaving space for something I might consider humor or actual personality on anyone else. He probably speaks to many girls like that when they’re alone together--a fact I have to fight to remind myself of--but it’s the closest thing to friendship I have here. Maybe it’s foolish to hold onto that, but I can’t bring myself to release my grip on those sentiments. At least not yet, when the kind moments are still rare and fleeting and no line has been crossed.

The danger, however, comes from the prospect of not recognizing lines before they’re crossed. Even now, as I walk aimlessly in the night, pacing in hopes of exhausting my thoughts, I’m crossing lines in a much more literal way and even these are ill defined. I must be in new territory now, and even that I can only vaguely recognize because of the strangely humid scent that surrounds this area of the grounds.

I’m near the banya. I didn’t intend to wander here, but the thought of splashing water on my face is too tempting to pass up on. I move closer, finding a sense of peace in having some direction, even in a small way.

When the promise of water is only steps away, I begin to regret everything. There’s a figure in the bath. I freeze, ready to attempt to shrink away in hopes of disappearing before I’m caught. This could easily turn extremely awkward even though I technically haven’t done anything. Most people don’t bathe at this hour. Who bathes this late at night?

I keep my eyes on the individual, trying to make out who they are and how aware they are of their surroundings in the dim light. Pale skin, dark hair--unbelievably attractive torso. My eyes linger there longer than they should. I force my gaze upwards, towards their face as if that can erase my ogling. Embarrassment leaves my face burning--I’m not the ‘ogling’ type, and this person doesn’t even know I’m here. I keep my eyes on them as I step back, taking in unaware features as best I can in the dark.

I know them--I--Saints, it’s Kirigan.

Fantastic. Of course he has to be even more impossibly attractive while shirtless and wet. I turn my head upwards sharply, more desperate to not be caught than ever. I would never, ever recover from being caught. Whether he’d tease me or be angry with me, I don’t know. I also don’t know which option I’d prefer.

I step back again, my gait wider due to my urgency. Snap. The sound of both a twig and my chance of a stealthy escape being shattered. I cringe, craning my neck to the left in a desperate attempt to make it clear that I wasn’t watching him. I take another desperate step, ready to duck behind a nearby tree. Maybe he hasn’t seen me--maybe he’s distracted and assumed that some kind of rabbit or something passed by. He may not actively dislike me, but I’m not sure any semblance of favor he may have for me extends to this situation.

“Y/n.” His tone reveals nothing but his level of certainty. Ignoring him will only make me seem guilty.

I pause, keeping my gaze off of him. “Yes.” It wasn’t really a question, and yet I still answer it like one. “I was--I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d get some air, and I was walking kind of aimlessly and I ended up here and I didn’t think anyone would be here.” Why do I feel like I’m making this situation worse? “I’m sorry--I’m gonna--I’m going to go now.” This is the kind of embarrassing moment that will come back to me when I’m trying to fall asleep at night. I know it.

“You know the polite thing to do after intruding is to make eye contact.”

I don’t think my face has ever felt this warm before. At least he doesn’t sound angry, but his voice doesn’t reveal that much. I raise my gaze carefully, turning my head slowly. “I didn’t mean,” I exhale slowly, “It wasn’t my intention to intrude.”

He straightens slightly at my words, exposing more of his chest. I stay still, eyes trained on his to avoid an accidental lapse. “You could make it up to me by offering conversation.” Kirigan’s tone is deliberate, his words measured and calm. I don’t speak, feeling like I’m being presented a test I don’t understand, but most of our conversations leave me feeling like that. “Only if you’re comfortable.”

And just like that, I’m backed into a corner. A challenge. To deny him now would be to expose the effect he has on me. My chin raises a fraction of an inch as I take in that assured half-smirk. “Why wouldn’t I be comfortable?”

Kirigan arches a dark brow, assessing my response. “Then sit,” his voice has not changed, “You want air and I want company.”

I don’t think anyone that looks as good as he does shirtless has ever had trouble finding company, especially with the smooth way he speaks. Despite this, I step forward to accept his challenge without calling him out on his coyness. Each step is the crossing of another invisible line until I’m near the water’s edge. I make sure to keep my nightgown at a respectable length as I sit down.

I make a point of extending my legs towards the water while leaning back so that I can’t be easily accused of being a coward. “I feel the need to warn you that I might not make particularly interesting company.”

He angles his head to the side slightly, drawing attention to his jawline and neck. I force my stare to focus on the water. “I’ve never found you uninteresting.”

There’s something resigned in the way he says this. On instinct, I look up, taking in the slight softening of his features. The release of his usual sternness only adds to his beauty, a fact that I’m already resenting.

“You may be the only one.” It’s not meant to be a deprecating comment, but I’m not sure my partial laugh softens my bitterness. I hope it does--I’d rather his interest than the interest of my entire unit.

Kirigan shifts forward, the water moving with him. “Do you think that any coldness you’re experiencing has to do with you?”

The question has me drawing my eyebrows together. What else could it be? I shrug, “I’ve considered it.”

He nods once, eyes hardening slightly. “Do you always have trouble sleeping?”

The personalness of the question shouldn’t surprise me as much as it does. Kirigan seems to only understand boundaries when he’s the one setting them. “Not really.” A partial lie--this time I’m glad I can’t quite bring myself to look at him. “It’s not uncommon for me, but it’s not something I deal with every night.”

I risk shifting my eyeline when I hear the sound of water moving. Kirigan’s now resting an arm on the rim of the pool, wet skin dangerously close to my ankle and lower calf. “It’s not always easy,” his voice is low now, “Being alone with your thoughts.”

That’s not the kind of reply I’d expect from him. I blink twice before turning to study his expression. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him seem so tired--so weary and human and in need of something. The line between his eyebrows and the far off quality of his eyes leave me with the strong desire to give whatever it is he needs to him. The urge to reach out, to touch him in hopes of breaking him free from his odd trance leaves my stomach knotted. That line is too clear to cross so recklessly.

I need to chase away the serious atmosphere he’s created. “Is that why you bathe so late at night?” I let myself smile, “To avoid thoughts?”

“I like the peace of it.” Something akin to amusement touches his words. “And for the record, little dove,” the nickname is pointed and earns him an eyeroll, “The warm water doesn’t exactly chase away thoughts so much as encourages others.” He pauses. “You understand, considering you can barely look at me.”

This is the most embarrassing thing to have ever happened. The suggestive jilt to his words has to be intentional. Damn him. I turn my head, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “I can look at you just fine.”

“And if I were a Heartrender and could hear your heartbeat your pulse would be normal?” The question is teasing, a small smile pulling at his lips.

The warmth in my face increases, spreading down my neck. Kirigan’s expression remains smug. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“No?” He leans forward, angling his head so close to me I can faintly feel the warmth of his breath on my lower calf. “I find myself amusing.”

At least being around him like this is getting easier. I open my mouth, ready to provide some sarcastic comment I haven’t thought out yet. My mouth clamps shut on instinct when I feel his touch on my ankle. The faint contact quickly grows, his fingers brushing up my ankle and calf, leaving drops of cool water across my skin.

“What are you doing?” That’s a--a fair question, right? I’m not sure, rational thought slipping from me more and more with each passing second.

“Nothing, really,” his reply is quick. “Nervous?”

There is no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing. I roll my eyes, fighting against my instinctual fluster. “No,” a full lie, “You’re just getting me wet.”

“Barely.” When he’s not busy being brooding he’s not much better than an irritating child. He retracts his hand slowly, fingers grazing my skin slowly as he submerges his hand beneath the water. The loss of contact should feel like a victory. It doesn’t. “Y/n,” he shifts closer, back straightening.

There’s an odd seriousness to his demeanor that almost leaves me reeling. “Yes?”

He beckons me forward. I hesitate, but comply, letting myself shift closer to the water’s edge. Kirgan’s lips part, but no words leave him before he moves his arm, purposefully splashing water over my thighs and bottom of my nightgown. I let out an instinctively annoyed sound. “That is getting you wet.”

“Kirigan!” My tone is as menacing as I can make it, but he continues to grin. There’s such a lightness to the look I almost forget to be annoyed. Almost. “I should tell the entire Second Army how much of a child you are.”

My threat does nothing, his smile softening without fading. “They fear me too much for your stories to make a difference.” He says this flatly. “All of them except you.”

I don’t know if I’m supposed to make something of that comment. A brief moment passes in which I think his eyes come close to softening. Maybe that’s a side effect of seeing the world as you want. Wait...what do I want? Him? No, no, I can’t.

Okay, he’s objectively attractive and sometimes I think I may see more depth in him than he wants to be capable of. But that doesn’t mean I’m allowed to want anything with him. Even if he was trustworthy enough for me to be with him in any capacity...even casually, it could never happen. Nothing good could come from having relations with the highest ranked general and I doubt he’d ever want me like that. He likes to fluster people and I’m an easy target. I just accept it because being some level of entertainment to him is better than being nothing to everyone.

“I don’t think there’s much point in fear.” It feels like a fair answer. The fairest answer I can manage, anyways.

He sighs, the sound heavy. His hand stretches forward cautiously. I watch him and make no attempt to stop him from touching my lower calf. His fingers trace absentmindedly across the skin. “Of course you’d think that.”

Again, I don’t know what to make of his words. Or his actions. He couldn’t find anything wrong with me just slightly adjusting my position. It’d be a polite way to remind us both of the natural order of things. But then again, someone like him is allowed to be mad about anything. And I’m not sure I want to remind us of our place.

Actually, I’m completely sure that I want the opposite of that. But admitting that to myself is enough of a risk. I’ve already crossed thousands of tiny lines and what I want will require us to cross a thousand more.

“I’m a little surprised you’re not reminding me how foolish a notion like that can be.”

He lets out a tiny breath as he shifts even closer to me. “Maybe I’m enjoying your foolishness.”

“I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or the opposite.”

The slightest hint of a smile is visible to me beneath the moon’s glow. There’s something about darkness that adds beauty to things. I wait for him to reply, but instead of speaking his hand moves further up my leg. I struggle to hide my reaction to his long fingers trailing up my skin.

He’s touched me before, sure. Tiny moments in which he’d push a strand of hair out of my face or wipe at a bit of dirt on my cheekbone. More recently, he had gripped my hip firmly to guide me through a crowd of soldiers. He had been in a hurry, stealing me from a conversation with the only member of my unit that’s been somewhat friendly to me. It wasn’t serious--he had just been rushing me because he only had a minute between meetings and apparently he had too long of a day to not take a moment to speak with me.

“Are you alright, Dovey?” Normally, the nickname and all of its variations earns him an eyeroll. But everything is a lot less humorous with his hand half up my lower leg, leaving a trail of cool water wherever he touches.

His fingers press more firmly into my skin. “Yes, I’m fine--it’s just late.”

“Hm…” Kirigan breathes before tilting his head slightly. “You’re warm.” I stay silent as his hand shifts slightly. “Perhaps too warm.”

If I’m hot that has absolutely nothing to do with fever. “I’m fine, General, I promise.”

“Come closer,” he says, “It’ll take me no time to check.”

...A little too convenient. My nightgown is still embarrassingly damp from the last time I eased tonight. “Please tell me you don’t find me that naive.”

“Naive? No.” He lifts his hand slightly. “Warm? Yes.” I still don’t trust him. “I’m not going to do anything. I promise.”

His eyes are dark and the limited lighting of the moon doesn’t offer me much in my analysis, but what I can see makes him seem genuine. “Why do I feel like that’s not the first time you’ve had to say that?” Despite my comment, I move towards him.

The back of Kirigan’s palm is pressed to my forehead for less than a second. He brushes his hand down the side of my temple, rotating his wrist so that his fingertips can touch my cheek. His hand then continues to move down my jawline and then my neck...and then finally trails down my collarbone. I bite my tongue to avoid exhaling audibly at the contact.

“Warm,” he concludes with a tsk, and yet he doesn’t withdraw his hand. “Though that could just have to do with the climate.” His thumb slips beneath the sleeve of my nightgown. “Perhaps you could benefit from joining me.”

I bite my tongue to avoid letting out a surprised, embarrassingly enthusiastic squeak. I don’t know what’s gotten into him...maybe it’s the night air and the prospect of being fully alone. I should be strong enough to break whatever spell he’s starting to place on me. But I’m not. I’m really, really not.

He pulls on the sleeve of my nightgown slightly. “I’m…”

“Unless you’re nervous?” Another damn challenge. To shy away from this would be to expose myself. He tugs on the sleeve a little more assuredly, exposing my shoulder to the humid night. “Do I make you nervous?”

His voice comes out a shallow rasp. I feel it straight in my core. “...Not more than you should.”

“More than I should?”

Ugh--too honest. I let myself get distracted. It shouldn’t be too difficult to explain what I meant. He knows he’s feared. He wants to be feared. “I’m sure we’re both aware that there are a fair amount of cautionary tales revolving around you.”

His hand falls next to my lap. Oh? I didn’t expect to miss the contact between us so much. His expression seems to have fallen slightly as well. Was it my response to his question? It felt fair and straightforward without being too blunt. “And you believe every cautionary tale you hear?”

There’s something stiff about the way he asks the question. His moodiness is making me miss his touchiness even more. At least then I didn’t have to feel like I made a mistake. Did I say something wrong? “Should I?”

“It depends on whether or not you plan on being brave.”

“I told you...I don’t see much point in fear.”

“And yet you’re still there.” A bit of humor returns to his voice. “Why is that?”

Rolling my eyes, I shift forward, letting my legs dip into the water. This is as far as I should let this go. I’ve already lost too much more control. “Better?” He’s strangely tense again, a hint of something bitter playing at the smug look he tries for. “You alright?”

“Of course you’d ask me that.” He says this with a tired sigh. “You can never make things easy.”

“I don’t understand.”

He shifts backwards slightly. I can feel the distance between us like I’d feel a pebble in my shoe. “Do you believe all the stories about me?”

Is he still bothered by that? “I didn’t mean it as literally as you’re taking it. All I meant is that people are intimidated by you, but that’s not a bad thing. It’s the way things have to be, you’re the only Shadow Summoner in existence and the army needs you to be intimidating so that they can act on your guidance.”

“The way things have to be,” he echoes, his voice strangely weighted. “There’s a specific kind of loneliness that comes with being feared by everyone.”

Oh--I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him feel defeated like that. I reach for his hand without thinking, pulling his fingers towards my lap. “I don’t--I’m not scared of you.” It’s a weak attempt to comfort him, but it’s the only one I can think of. “That probably doesn’t mean anything, but I--”

His hand turns in my lap, squeezing the exposed part of my thigh. “It means something.” Kirigan’s voice has hardened in a different way. “You’re the only person I’m certain of.”

Everything in me seems to tighten at that. At the implication of something so personal from someone so closed off. “Kirigan, you don’t have to be as alone as you feel. You talk to me all the time and you do so in a way that makes it easy to forget the cautionary tales.” His hand moves further up my thigh. I fight as I try to remember our usual dynamic. “You’re the only one that talks to me like that.”

“Have you ever considered that maybe the others refuse to take to you because of the favor I’ve shown you? The instinct to stay away from me is strong enough to extend to those around me.” Kirigan’s hand moves higher up my thigh. “To be near me is to involve solitude.”

“I don’t care.” The answer leaves me too quickly. “Being near you is worth it.”

He leans closer before resting his chin on my knee with no hesitation. “Careful, you don’t understand the line you tread.” Kirigan places his hand more firmly between my thighs. “Or perhaps you do...perhaps you know what you want to cross.”

This time I can’t help the airy sigh that leaves me. Kirigan pushes against my thigh slightly, separating my legs. I feel his breath on my inner thigh before I know what’s going on. I can’t move, I can’t think, I can’t even breathe. That inability to do anything but feel my heart pound against my chest only worsens as I feel his lips press into the inside of my thigh. His lips trail up my skin before his teeth gently sink into the top of my thigh.

“Is the line you want to cross?” He breathes the question so softly I feel like I’m being coddled. Everything in me feels too hot to think of any kind of coherent response. Kirigan uses his free hand to pull the fabric of my nightgown as high up my thighs as he can from his position below me. “Or maybe this is the line you want to cross?” Kirigan pulls me forward so suddenly I let out a tiny gasp. I’m not fully on the edge of the banya. “Or perhaps this one?” He kisses the skin of my inner thigh gently. Each time I exhale too loudly, his teeth graze my skin. He gets harsher with each passing second. “Lay down.”

My body listens to him on instinct. How is this happening? How am I this powerless to fight against something that’s so clearly wrong? The sound of water shifting causes my entire body to tense. He’s pulled himself out of the water. Kirigan moves above me instantly, water dripping from his toned chest and dark hair and onto my still damp nightgown.

Before I can speak, he’s on me completely, his lips pressing against my jaw. He kisses down my neck, his teeth grazing against my skin sporadically. He pulls away from me by tracing his tongue across my collar bone. I let out something dangerously close to a moan. “Such pretty, little sounds.”

“Kirigan--”

“The only name I want you to hear from your lips is the only name that I’ve not given myself. The only name that holds meaning to me.”

His lips graze where my skin meets the hem of my now soaked through nightgown. I’m not sure the poor lighting is offering me enough coverage now. There’s no way the thin fabric leaves much to the imagination while being this wet. He kisses up my chest and neck until his lips reach the shell of my ear.

“Aleksander.” The name is grace in the form of a breath so soft it’s more like I’m feeling the name than actually hearing it.

He presses his lips against the spot on my neck directly beneath my ear. I exhale into the contact. “Aleksander.” As I test his true name on my tongue, his teeth dig into my skin much more harshly than before.

I let out a partial squeak at the sudden shift in pace as his hands grip my waist. “Say it again. Say my name again.”

He traces his tongue gingerly over the skin he just aggravated with his teeth before I can speak. The soothing sensation is so much I can barely find my voice. “Aleksander.”

His hand bunches the bottom of my nightgown, raising the fabric to my hips. “...Say it just like that.” Kirgan’s rough hand slips between the bone of my hip and the fabric of my hip. “Like I’m the only one that knows you like this.”

“Aleksander.” I breathe as he traces invisible patterns into my skin with his lips. “Aleksander.” Each use of his name earns me extra attention--a stronger hold on my hip, a more adamant nip at the base of my neck. I feel my need for him so heavily I swear it’s leaked into my bones. “Aleksander.”

When he pulls away, I fight the urge to whine. The night is still humid, but with the absence of his touch I feel like I’m shivering. He regards me silently for a long moment before shifting his weight again. I feel my heart stall in my chest as his hand softly brushes a strand of hair out of my face. He lets his hand linger there, at the apple of my cheek. The entire world seems to stall as he leans down, his hand cupping the side of my face as his mouth inches closer to mine.

“I can feel the fluttering of your heart.”

Any poor defense dies in my throat as his lips meet mine. He gives me no time to think about what’s happening as he presses into me even harder. Kirigan holds my face as his teeth graze against my bottom lip. My mouth opens slightly in surprise, giving him the opportunity he needs to slip his tongue into my mouth. His tongue slowly brushes against mine, coaxing me into total, delirious, compliance. When he starts to pull away, I react, my hands flying forward to grab his hair. He lets me get away with tugging him towards me, prolonging the kiss as he bites my bottom lip.

One of his hands leaves my face and travels up the hands holding onto his hair. He pulls me off of him easily, pinning both of my wrists above my head with one hand. “Easy,” Kirigan warns, “You’ve been such a good girl, let’s not ruin it before we’ve started.”

A tiny sigh leaves me. I can feel the pride he takes in that as his hand trails further down my body. His fingers ghost along the hem of my underwear teasingly.

“Is someone there?” I’ve never damned the voice of a stranger more.

Panic and dread roll in my stomach. I’m going to get caught like this, with my nightgown bunched at my hips beneath the General Kirigan. An unclothed, wet, General Kirigan. “I’m bathing.”

Okay...good...Aleksander spoke. Anyone with common sense would run at the thought of invading on Kirgan’s privacy. It’s a good thing that the soldier had the sense to linger behind a thicket of bushes. “Pardon General, but there’s been a crucial development. A new strategy should be thought of as soon as possible.”

No. No. The thought of losing contact so entirely, of having a moment that should have never happened be ripped from me before it’s even really happened is overwhelming. I feel my lips pull into a pout. Kirigan’s hand adjusts on me, his thumb pressing teasingly over where I’m neediest. I bite my tongue to avoid making an inappropriate noise.

“Five minutes--I’ll be in the strategy tent in five minutes.”

“I’ll tell the others, General.”

Great. I hear the stranger disappear, his feet crushing twigs and grass as he leaves us. Aleksander’s attention returns to me quickly. Disappointment swells in my chest as I take in the solemn look that crosses his features. His hand moves to my chin quickly before pulling me into another deep kiss. It’s too short lived.

“I have to go.”

Frowning, I lift my hand to trace my fingers up his arm. It’s softer than I should allow myself to be, but it doesn’t really matter anymore. Not when this is probably never going to happen again. “Do you?” I mumble to myself, half joking.

He sighs once, his thumb brushing against my cheek. “No pouting.”

Now that whatever little bubble we were in has popped, I’m capable of normal feelings. Including shame. “I am n--”

“Easy, little dove, I’ll remember all of this when I find you again.”

This...this is going to happen again? “You’re going to find me?”

“I haven’t yet heard your voice crack on my name as I undo you.” He punctuates the promise with a kiss to my jaw. “Again.” Another kiss. “And again.” Another brush of his lips as he finally pulls away. “And again.”

My breath catches itself in my throat as he moves off of me entirely. Damn whatever change in the war that’s pulled him away from me so suddenly. I sit up as he stands. I’m not sure where to look now that he’s not in close enough proximity to cloud my thoughts. I should leave as he dresses, but I can’t quite bring myself to. It doesn’t feel safe, not when the man that interrupted us could reappear at any moment. Not when I want to hold onto his presence like this as long as possible.

He squeezes my shoulder warmly as he passes before bending down to press one more kiss next to where his hand is.

“Soon,” he promises again.

General taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper, @grishaverse7 @benbarnes-supremacy @tranquilitymoon @kaitlyn2907 @lunamyangel @christinawxxx @deceivedeer @real-mbappe @tonks33

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minijenn · 3 years

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KH Writing Comm #2

Hey hey my first writing comm of the bunch! This one is for @whump-bunny, who wanted a short "what if" schenario for what would have happened in Keys if Marluxia had successfully managed to take Sora back to Xehanort after capturing him in the Tangled chapters. Gotta say this was fun to work on, though I do kinda feel a little bit bad for Marlulu here... oh, and also Sora I guess, but he doesn't suffer nearly as much here as you might expect lol. Anyway, here it is!

***

There are no words to describe the sheer terror Sora feels when Marluxia drags him away. He only barely hears Donald and Goofy’s horrified cries as he’s pulled into the darkness, his arms still bound by unbreakable chains, his own screams muffled by the gag still covering his mouth. He tries pulling back against Marluxia’s firm hold, but his resistance falls to pieces when the corrupting shadows of the dark corridor start lancing through his body, pouring pain straight into it. But that pain is immediately laced with even more fear when he’s suddenly shoved onto solid ground, the shaded tower they’d just been in seconds before now replaced with a pristine white room.

And, standing on the far side of that room is none other than Master Xehanort himself.

Sora freezes up the moment he sees him, his next scream caught in his throat as Marluxia takes a small step past him, the other end of his chains still clenched tightly in his grip. Xehanort’s back is turned to them, and at first it seems as though he hasn’t noticed their arrival. At least until Marluxia speaks up to announce it.

“Master,” he inclines his head in respect. He pauses briefly, his broad grin widening as he spares a small glance over at his frightened captive. “I have returned, with both a Key… as well as a special ‘gift’ that I’m sure you’ll appreciate. I have brought your precious thirteenth vessel home early.”

Xehanort finally glances over his shoulder, his expression initially bored, until his golden gaze falls upon Sora. The master strangely seems caught off guard, as if he truly is surprised by Marluxia’s “gift”. His expression darkens when he turns around fully, his dark Keyblade flashing into his hand as he walks toward the pair. Each slow step he takes fills Sora with a new wave of dread, his heart pounding and his entire body trembling as he realizes there is no escaping this. No escaping from the awful man who’s already well on his way to destroying him completely.

Xehanort finally stops a few feet away, pulling his deadly Keyblade back for a heavy strike. Sora closes his eyes, already anticipating the untold pain that’s about to come his way. And yet, surprisingly, it doesn’t come, at least not to him. Instead, Xehanort’s Keyblade soundly strikes Marluxia instead.

His startled cry echoes through the room as he’s thrown across it. His back hits the far wall, and within seconds, Xehanort bridges the gap between them, leaving Sora exactly where he is to watch this bewildering twist unfold.

“You traitorous fool!” Xehanort snaps, infuriated. He keeps Marluxia pinned in place by positioning the edge of his dark weapon dangerously close to his neck, and Sora is shocked to see just how shaken he is by his master’s ire. A rare look on someone who, mere seconds ago, had been so calm and collected in light of his supposed triumph. “Have you learned nothing from your past failures? Are you really so impetuous and incompetent that you would bring him here now, far before he’s ready to join our ranks?”

“I-I simply assumed that you-” Marluxia is swiftly cut off as Xehanort presses his Keyblade even closer to him, to the point that its edge is all but skimming the skin of his throat.

“Never take it upon yourself to assume what my intentions are, Number Seven,” the master warns him, his voice quiet yet incredibly threatening. “The task I gave you was a fundamentally simple one: to go into the worlds and retrieve a Key for our cause. Nothing less, and certainly nothing more. And yet you couldn’t even do that much right. Perhaps you thought that you were going a step beyond the station of your duty with this ‘ingenious’ plan of yours, but instead, all you have accomplished is the exact opposite. You have disgraced me, my seventh; you have disgraced me, you have disgraced your Organization, and most of all, you have disgraced yourself.”

Marluxia pales at this, his jaw dropped as he tries to futilely fish for words he can’t seem to find. When he does speak, his voice is small, subdued, something that barely sounds like it could come out of any Organization member at all as far as Sora is concerned. “M-my… apologies, master,” he starts, clearly treading as carefully as he can now. “But… if the boy is here now, then you could finish carrying out your plans for him far sooner. He could be of use to us now instead of-”

He’s cut off as a sharp, agonized cry escapes him, echoing through the white room. Xehanort’s hand is held up, darkness enshrouding it as he forces that silencing pain onto his seventh vessel’s heart. “You understand nothing of my plans,” he sneers coldly. “I am the one who is meant to guide our thirteenth to his proper place among us, not you. Your role is to do as you’re told, and if memory serves correctly, I never told you to bring Sora to me prematurely, did I, my seventh?”

“N-no, master,” Marluxia barely manages to say above the pain relentlessly clinging onto his heart. “You did not…”

“I don’t believe you realize just how grave of a mistake you’ve made here,” Xehanort finally backs away, his Keyblade disappearing. “Perhaps this will prove enough to remind you to never act against my wishes again.” At this, Xehanort clenches his darkness-shrouded hand into a tight fists, pressing his devastating power upon Marluxia even further. He collapses to his knees, another anguished scream tearing out of his throat as he helplessly writhes at his master’s feet.

The most Sora can do is watch this entire horrific display from afar, his eyes wide with apt fear. He can’t deny he’d feel sorry for Marluxia… if Marluxia hadn’t been the one to chain him up, steal him from his friends, and drag him straight into the lion’s den. Right into Xehanort’s cruel, cunning hands to no doubt face the very same kind of horrific torment as soon as he’s done with the current target of his hatred.

This bout of twisted torture goes on for what seems like ages. It finally ends when Marluxia finally fully falls to the ground, barely conscious, a small bit of blood trickling out of his mouth to stain the otherwise flawless floor. Xehanort stands over him, absolutely sympathetic as he offers his seventh vessel one final warning. “If you ever dare to disobey me again, I can promise you that your next punishment will be far worse than you can imagine,” he says simply before turning away, allowing Marluxia to finally slip into the void completely.

When Xehanort looks back at him, the most Sora can manage to get out underneath his gag is a small, anxious whine. He pulls back away as much as he’s able as the master approaches him, his expression an icy mask of stern authority. “Let this… display be a lesson to you as well, my thirteenth,” he says calmly, as if he hadn’t just put someone through such immense suffering. “It is the same law each of your fellow members are made to follow: if you ever decide to rebel against the role I have planned for you, then you must be prepared to face the consequences of your own insolent actions. And all of the pain that futile insubordination is bound to bring to you.”

Sora’s barely listening by this point, as overwhelmed by terror as he is. His Keyblade won’t come to him, won’t appear to free him from the chains around his wrists, from this awful situation as a whole. And yet, much to his surprise, he soon finds that he doesn’t need it to at all.

“Even so, I feel inclined to apologize for my seventh’s ignorant haste,” Xehanort finally smiles, slipping a finger under Sora’s chin to guide his haunting gaze. “As I said, you aren’t meant to be here, not yet. There’s still so much more you need to do, so many more Keys yet for you to claim. Far be it from me to detract you from such an essential mission. With that mission in mind, you may return to the light that you’re so accustomed to… for the time being.”

With a wave of the master’s hand, a dark corridor forms directly underneath Sora, its shadows already starting to swallow him, his chains and gags suddenly disappearing as they do. Sora gasps, immediately trying to escape the dangerous darkness devouring him, only to be overwhelmed by it almost immediately. The last thing he hears before it carries him somewhere far away is his master’s voice, echoing one last sinister promise through the empty void. “But don’t forget, my thirteenth, that no matter where you go from here, no matter what path you take, each and every one will ultimately lead you back here in the end. Back to the darkness, to your Organization, to your master… to where you truly belong…”

Commissions are still open! PM me if interested!

#jen writes #keys to the kingdom #kingdom hearts #commissions #writing commissions #sora #xehanort #marluxia #disney #square enix #keys au #sorta lol #drabble prompt

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